


Motivational

by thebearking



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female Reader, No Smut, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pet Names, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Suggestive Themes, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: Bucky volunteers to be your personal trainer for the day. You can handle the fitness, just not his praise.





	Motivational

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i love bucky's voice soooo this is almost a self-insert. almost. i'm sorry it's not gender-neutral :(

As a member of the Avengers, a trip to the gym was necessary almost every single day. You weren’t a super soldier, so if you wanted to maintain your strength and endurance, you had to work for it. You were completely human, no enhancements to boast about; you’d earned a place on the team thanks to your agility and above-average knowledge of parkour. Plus, you looked great in a catsuit. You joined around the same time Sam did, and the two of you became fast friends. He was your “gym buddy” as well as your regular buddy. You could call him your physical trainer, but you spent as much time supporting him during a workout as he supported you. Sam managed to keep your workouts fun and challenging at the same time; he could make you laugh, but also push you to your limits. He was your go-to, but if Sam wasn’t available, then you settled for Steve. By now, Steve was aware of just how much his own abilities differed from those of a normal human being, like you. He was patient and always willing to slow down and review if you were having trouble. It made him a good teacher.

When both Sam _and_ Steve were unavailable, you had to improvise.

You would ask Clint, but he was always either too silly or too serious when it came to training you. You would ask Nat, but you would prefer she remain your fighting instructor and not your fitness trainer. Tony and Bruce were always in the lab, Wanda and Pietro were also unavailable, Thor was in another realm, Rhodey was still going through PT, you weren’t even sure what Vision would be like, so that left—

“Hey, I can help you,” Bucky said, leaning over with his elbows on the counter. “I’m not much of a trainer but I can certainly give you some encouragement. Show you how it’s done, if there’s anything new you wanna try.” As if on cue, the muscles in his arms flexed, and you silently thanked the universe for sleeveless shirts.

You spooned more cereal into your mouth and considered his offer as you chewed. It wasn’t such a bad idea. Bucky knew as much about fitness as anyone, and whenever he’d joined Nat during your fighting lessons, he’d always been enthusiastic. You’d personally seen Bucky grow from the silent, tentative shell of a man to the charismatic, friendly soul he was today. And maybe this would boost his confidence even more. “Okay, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight.” You pointed at him with your spoon. “And you better not go easy on me.”

He grinned. “Never. You’ll be nice and sore by the time I’m done with you.”

You would have been lying if you’d said that comment hadn’t flustered you a little.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, you met Bucky in the gym. You’d donned your typical workout attire: Nikes, leggings (with just enough cutouts to make you feel risqué), and a Dri-FIT crop top. Bucky looked handsome as ever in shorts, compression tights, and yet another sleeveless shirt. He was serving some decent side-boob but you weren’t going to tell him that; in fact, you thought he already knew.

“What’s up, coach?” you greeted him, sitting down on the bench and setting your water bottle and gym bag beside you.

Bucky moved to straddle the other end of the bench, facing you. “All right, I talked to Sam a bit about what kinda workouts he has you do, but is there anything you wanted to focus on today?”

You tipped your head to the side, thinking. “Leg presses,” you decided, “and some squats, definitely squats. I’ve been getting better but I think there’s room for improvement. And you’re the best squatter I know.”

He smiled. “Gee, thanks, doll. Anything else?”

“Bench pressing. Nat says it’s useless, but if I can’t lift an entire human being over my head, what’s the point of being a superhero at all?”

He laughed, and the sound was music to your ears. “Let’s get to it, then.”

After some stretching and both aerobic and dynamic prep, Bucky led you to the leg press machine and helped you get settled into it. You went to work, extending your legs and then bending them, feeling the strain of your muscles as you moved. Bucky was squatting behind you, offering words of encouragement.

“That’s it, baby girl, you’re doing great.”

Your brow furrowed, not out of concentration but out of confusion. _Okay_.

“You’re doing such a good job, babydoll. There we go.”

 _Um_.

“Keep pushing, you’re almost done. Good girl.”

 _Jesus Christ_. After a few reps, Bucky locked the platform into place and helped pull you out of the machine and onto your feet. You took your water bottle from him and drank several mouthfuls. “Nice job. You’ve got some strong legs, doll,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder.

You smiled sheepishly, still thinking about his praises as he led you to a rack of barbells. You considered saying something to him, maybe asking him to lighten up with the affectionate nicknames and such. Except that wasn’t what you wanted. It was distracting but it was also satisfying somehow. As you prepared to dip, barbell lined up across your shoulders, you prayed silently that Bucky would stay silent, or just say, “Nice work!” or “Lookin’ good!” every now and then.

Perhaps you’d been asking for too much.

“There we go, baby. Doing so good, sweetheart. That’s it, you can do it. Go a little deeper, I know you can do it. There we go, good girl, good girl.”

You could get used to him talking to you like this. His voice was smooth and velvety and viscous, like honey, surrounding you with thick, saccharine warmth. His praise soothed the soreness in your arms and dripped down, down, down to ease the tension in your thighs. You could picture him using those same words in different context, in a different setting, one where he was sitting on his bed and you were on top of him, or where you were on your knees, holding on to his thighs and giving him the best head of his life—

As soon as you were finished you nearly tossed the barbell to Bucky and strode quickly to the weight bench, eager to get to the next task. You lay down on the bench, mentally motivating yourself. _Just concentrate on your reps, not on Bucky,_ you told yourself. You gulped as he walked around the bench to stand behind you, lowering the barbell into your grasp but keeping his hands on it to spot you. Your head was way too close to his thighs; you decided you would look everywhere but at Bucky. You’d even stare into the ceiling lights and go blind if you had to.

For the first couple reps, Bucky was quiet, just a soft-spoken “good” here and there. It gave you plenty of time to focus on yourself. You hadn’t told anyone but Sam about your feelings for Bucky, about how you’d fallen for him the moment he started opening up to you about the psychological trauma HYDRA had left behind. He’d grown on you, from those piercing blue eyes to that infectious laugh, the way he called you babe, the way he sought you out whenever you walked into the room. He’d come out of his shell because you encouraged him along the way. He’d tried foods, watched new shows, and even kept his scruff simply because you’d asked him to. Sam told you over and over that Bucky would be lucky to have you, and _Bucky_ told you over and over that you were the best person he knew, the sweetest soul in the compound, the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. You’d never made a move because…because…

Wait. Why _hadn’t_ you made a move?

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there. How’s that feel? Good girl, keep going—”

Your hands shook so much that you lost your grip. Luckily Bucky caught the barbell before it could fall on your face.

“Whoa! You okay? Do you need to take a—”

“Yes! Yes, I need a break.” You wriggled out from underneath the rack and sat up, burying your face in your hands. You were thinking too hard, thoughts flying in out of nowhere, slamming into each other. You liked Bucky. Bucky…probably liked you. And his suggestive reassurances were adding fuel to the fire. You were going to combust.

Bucky, being the perceptive fucker he was, knelt down in front of you. “Doll? What’s goin’ on?”

Slowly, you took your hands away and instead wrung them together, gnawing at your bottom lip anxiously. “Buck, you—Do you hear yourself?”

He frowned. “Huh?”

“You—When you were cheering me on it’s like…You sound like…God, this is so stupid.” You wanted to kick yourself.

“What is it, doll?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Buck, you kept calling me those silly names and it was so…It sounded less like you were cheering me on and more like…” You sighed; it would be better if you just told him bluntly. “I don’t know, it sounded like what you would say during sex or something. It’s distracting.”

Bucky blinked at you. And blinked again. His face was the picture of innocence and confusion.

You flopped back onto the bench with a groan, covering your face with your hands once again. “Forget I said anything.”

He still wasn’t talking. You were sure he would get up and leave. And then, “Sorry, doll. I had no idea.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You could still hear him, though, calling you “baby” and “sweetheart” and “babydoll.” How was he still single with a voice like that? You needed a cold, cold shower.

“Sweet—” He cut himself off. “Could you at least look at me?”

Now that wasn’t what you wanted. You liked the pet names. You sat up and fought to maintain eye contact with him, but just his gaze alone was making you sweat. “Yeah?”

He licked his lips (you pretended it wasn’t seductive as hell). “I’m really sorry. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. I don’t wanna bother you.”

He looked truly apologetic, but you weren’t even upset. You shook your head, placing your hands on his shoulders. “No, Buck, it’s not your fault, at all,” you said. “You weren’t bothering me. It’s my fault getting so worked up about it.”

He blinked again, but then his expression changed, his eyes searing so hot you wondered if they’d burn you. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

You almost shivered. Somehow you held yourself together…for the most part. “No,” you whispered.

One of his hands, the metal one, gently grasped your leg, his thumb rubbing the inside of your knee. The other rose to cup your chin. You stifled a whimper. “You gonna be a good girl for the rest of the day?” His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, drawing a real shiver out of you. “Gonna be good for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He stood up, smiling like he hadn’t just rocked your world with just his voice. His eyes, however, vowed to be as domineering as you wanted him to be. “Then why don’t I help you stretch? I said you’d be sore afterward, didn’t I?”

You arched an eyebrow, your apprehension transforming into sheer excitement. Somehow you found it in yourself to be coy. “Is that a promise?”

Bucky smirked. “Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! let me know what you think in the comments <3


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